


Marinette and the Moving Castle

by Boogum



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Found Family, Friendship, Howls Moving Castle AU, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, does not rehash book or movie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29142792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boogum/pseuds/Boogum
Summary: They say home is where the heart is. And sometimes home is just an overdramatic wizard, his grumpy fire demon, and a thoughtful apprentice.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Nino Lahiffe, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Plagg
Comments: 35
Kudos: 59





	1. In which seven-league-boots are difficult to navigate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [landturtlealyce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/landturtlealyce/gifts).



> Happy birthday, alyce! you're always gonna be that person I spent hours talking to about birds and glowy sparkles, and I love you for that. Hope you enjoy this HMC au! (oh, and this one is gonna be multichapter, so that should make up for the tragic lateness hjkhjk)

The castle creaked and wheezed its way up the hill, green smoke puffing out of its chimneys like a sickly mist. For most people, it would have been a terrifying sight. Wizard Chat Noir ate pretty girl's hearts, after all. But for Marinette, sprawled on the grass next to a seven-league-boot, and creaking and wheezing more than the castle, it was as welcome as a cup of tea after a long day.

"Oh, thank goodness," she groaned.

The castle came to a graceless, goose-honking halt. A little door opened. Nino poked his head out, peering around until he spotted her. He sighed with his whole body—which was rather rude, if she did say so herself. So maybe this was the third time in a week she had tried to go adventuring with a seven-league-boot, but so what? Young whippersnappers like him had no right to be judging her with their judging, entire-body sighs. (She pointedly ignored the fact that, technically, they were the same age. It was only her curse that made her look like some ninety-year-old relic.)

"Did you step in cow poop again?" Nino asked.

Marinette raised her chin. "Of course not." Her lips twitched and she struggled to maintain her haughty air. "It was horse's."

He laughed and came over to help her up. "You know," he said, as he wrapped his arm around her waist and picked up the bucket-like boot with his free hand, "you should really listen to Chat Noir and try to relax more."

"I'm perfectly fine."

Which was true. Mostly.

Okay, maybe her joints were trying to wage a war against her and her chest hurt a bit, but she was fine. It was only because her planned trips with the seven-league-boot usually ended up taking her on the extra-long scenic route—five-star farming tour and Wasteland sighting guaranteed. The boot was just so big and clunky. She had always been clumsy, too.

"If you say so," he said, "but at least let me know next time you plan to go out. Then I can come with you and make sure you get back safely."

"That's not necessary, but thank you for the offer."

They entered the castle, which didn't look half as imposing on the inside. More like some raggle-taggle house scraped together by a junkyard enthusiast. Everything was mismatched, from the curtains to the cutlery. There was even a skull that usually sat on the mantlepiece, though it was sitting on the work counter at the moment with a few daisies poked in one eye. Marinette must have forgotten to move it back while cleaning.

She settled in her favourite chair by the fire and leaned her staff against it. The staff was a vibrant shade of red and covered in black spots—exactly like a ladybug. She barely went anywhere without it. Her old legs needed the support.

"Did you really have to go tripping all over the country today?" Plagg, the fire demon, grumbled in his voice of crackle and flame. "That fool was so worried when he found out you'd gone, he had me marching all over the place in search of you. What a waste of good sleeping time."

"That's because he's caring, unlike a heartless fire demon I know."

"But I do have a heart. Chat Noir's the heartless one, and you're all terrible just like him."

She smiled and settled more comfortably in her chair as Plagg prattled on about his woes and how he was the only one who did any work around here.

"I hope you at least learnt something useful," he said.

Her gaze darted to Nino, but he was bustling around at the bench. No need to worry about him overhearing.

"Nothing that would help you," she said in a lower voice.

Plagg pursed his fiery lips.

Guilt wriggled in her stomach. She _was_ supposed to be finding a way to break Plagg's contract with Chat Noir, but these days she spent more time exploring or helping in the shop. Somehow, the quest had lost its urgency the moment she'd learned that Chat Noir did not eat hearts and was, in fact, just a big baby with a taste for theatrics.

The front doorhandle rattled. She perked up, watching the magic dial that let them travel between places flick from blue to green. The door opened and Chat Noir entered: a vision of black, jewel-like green eyes, and golden hair.

"You got another summons from the king," Nino said by way of greeting. "Or at least Wizard Laurent did."

Chat Noir grimaced, losing the buoyancy in his step.

"He'll keep sending them, too. You can't ignore a king, Chat."

"I know," Chat Noir said softly.

Marinette's brow creased. The subdued tone wasn't like him. He was always so loud and over-the-top, like a bouquet of yellow tulips compared to a tiny bunch of forget-me-nots. Bows and flourishes were second nature to him. His smile rarely faltered, and when it did, she was never sure if she should take him seriously or not. The star of a melodrama would have portrayed his distress with less dramatic flair.

"Why don't you just go?" she asked. "Get it over and done with."

"Because the king wants me to be his court wizard."

"And that's a problem? You love being the centre of attention so much, I would have thought you'd jump at such a role."

His smile was strained. "Not all attention is good attention. Besides," he added in a more jovial tone, "as the court wizard, I would be expected to stay at the palace and do as the king says."

"And listening to anyone isn't your style, is it?" she said falsely-sweet.

"It's certainly not yours."

She blinked. "Me? What I have done?"

"Merely that you have once again ignored my advice to rest inside the castle."

"Nonsense. I had a very relaxing day."

"Really?" He made a show of rubbing his chin in a pondering manner. "Then I guess it must have been some other old lady I spotted stuffing her face with a macaron in the park."

Heat spread in waves over Marinette's cheeks.

Nino turned betrayed eyes on her. "You bought macarons and you didn't bring me back one?"

"You know I would never."

Which was true. The macaron had been a gift given to her by her mum. Not that Mum had realised the old lady staring mournfully at the pastries was her daughter.

"Anyway," Chat Noir said, "I made a lovely new friend today."

"Who?" Nino asked.

" _Lovely_?" Marinette said at the same time, scrunching her nose.

"Yes. Her name is Alya Césaire."

Marinette froze as if zapped with a paralysis spell.

"The journalist?" Nino asked.

Chat Noir nodded. "That's the one."

Creases formed on Nino's brow. "But I thought you said you didn't have time for news people. You're always pretending you're not here when they call. Last time, you even hid in the cupboard when one turned up unannounced."

"That was before I met her."

"And realised how beautiful she is?" Marinette said, arching an eyebrow.

He smiled. "Would it bother you if I said yes?"

She snorted and folded her arms. "Why should it bother me who you think is beautiful? I'll just have you know, you young dandiprat, that Alya is my frie—my friend's grandniece. She doesn't need you putting on your pretty airs around her."

"Ah, friend's grandniece. I see."

She shifted on the chair, not liking his toothy smile or the glint in his eye. "What were you talking about with her anyway?"

"Never you mind. I think you've done enough poking around for one day."

"I was not poking around! I—"

He made a humming sound. "So, you got manure stuck to your hem during a nice nap by the fire, did you?" The glint in his eyes got cheekier. "Horse's, is it?"

Her blush returned in full force and tried to creep towards her ears. So, of course she snorted her most scoffing of snorts and looked the other way. "Oh, be off with you. Isn't it time for your four-hour bath?"

"I only spend one hour, actually, but thank you for the reminder." He swooped down and kissed her cheek, complete with loud _mwah_ sound.

She spluttered and uncrossed her arms, red-faced. He flashed her a grin and headed up the stairs for his routine bath. Near the bench, Nino stared at her like she'd purposely stepped on his glasses and tossed them into the river.

"You really didn't bring me a macaron?" he asked.

She repressed a sigh. Trust Chat Noir to make things awkward for her before he'd even been ten minutes in the castle. "I'm sorry. There was a lot going on—family stuff and all—and it slipped my mind."

Also true. Seeing her mum had been emotional, for all that Marinette had resigned herself to living away from her parents until her curse was broken. The last thing she had been thinking of was buying macaron treats to share with everyone.

"Family?" Nino eyed her with curiosity. "You've never mentioned them before."

She shrugged and grabbed her bag of mending, which sat next to her chair.

"Hey," he said as she fished around for her needle and thread.

"Mm?"

"You … you're not planning on leaving, are you?"

She paused. "What's with this all of a sudden?"

"Nothing, nothing. Don't worry about it." He went back to chopping some plants into fine pieces.

She frowned but said nothing. After all, she would have to leave one day. The only reason she was here was because she'd been cursed into an old woman and had nowhere else to go. (She was too scared that the Wizard of the Waste and his akumas would target her parents or Alya if she stayed with them, and the curse stopped her from telling anyone what had happened anyway.) Also, Plagg had said he'd break her curse if she broke his contract with Chat Noir. It wasn't because she wanted to stay here …

Right?

Her fingertips moved against the chair's armrest, feeling its worn fabric. She glanced around the mismatched but cosy room. Plagg burned logs in odd colours of green, black and purple. Nino made his spell, the rhythmic chopping and stirring a soothing accompaniment. And there was her bed tucked in the corner, warmed by the fire and set up by Chat Noir himself with a little screen for privacy. (Sometimes, Chat Noir would present her with bunches of flowers to prettify her area—a nice gesture, to be sure, but he always managed to ruin it with some stupid joke or comment. She still kept the flowers, though.)

Her hand tightened on the armrest. She swallowed, trying to ease the dryness in her mouth. When was the last time she'd truly tried to find a clue to break the contract? Truly, truly? Sure, she'd hunted for leftover chewed hearts and asked Chat Noir questions in the beginning, but of late … of late she'd just lived alongside everyone. Even being an old woman had become as natural to her as waking up in the morning and getting ready for the new day.

Her breathing hitched.

"You alright, Marinette?" Nino asked, and then frowned and came to kneel beside her. "You really did exert yourself too much today, didn't you?"

"N-no. I'm fine."

Probably. Maybe should be questioning her mental capability, but fine. It wasn't like any creepy scarecrows had been hopping around after her.

The creases on Nino's brow deepened. "I still don't like how pale you look. You should take it easy tonight. Put your feet up." He dragged a stripe-patterned footstool over for her to rest her feet on. "Give the mending a break and let me do the cooking."

A laugh bubbled free from her lips. "I have to do _something_. I can't just sit here."

"Well, I suppose you can do some mending. But only some."

She smiled. "Alright then, Mother Hen. I'll only do some."


	2. In which a window is more than a window

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay just gonna say that I'm not really sticking close to the book, but at the same time there are spoilers in here for the book. (though I guess it doesn't really matter because you'd never know what's a spoiler unless you've read it hkjhjhk )

Marinette had made hot chocolate and cookies as a supper for them all to enjoy. Or, rather, she and Nino enjoyed them while Plagg grumbled about how sweet things weren't half as appetising as camembert. (Apparently, he liked the stinky sock flavour it added to his flames.) Chat Noir could have enjoyed supper, but he had not bothered to come downstairs after his bath. She was tempted to eat all the cookies—make him miss out and serve him right for acting like some grand overlord waiting to be summoned from his room. But she was a softie at heart. Plus, her parents had taught her better than to keep tasty baking treats to herself.

So, creaking and hobbling like a rusty wind-up toy, she carried a plate of cookies and a steaming mug of hot chocolate up the stairs and knocked on his bedroom door. "Chat?" she said. "I've brought you some supper."

No response.

Really? Here she had come all the way up those stairs of torture, risking her old bones and her neck, and—

"Come in."

Marinette bit her lip. His soft response made her feel a bit silly for getting so worked up, however silently. Lucky she had not said anything aloud.

She eyed the brass doorknob and the rose etched onto it, realising that she had never entered his room before. Back in the days when she'd been trying to find his collection of chewed hearts—a mortifying time that she wished to forget—he'd always seemed to appear out of nowhere and stopped her before she could get inside. Perhaps the lure of supper had finally lowered his guard.

She opened his door, peering around with nosy eyes at his bedroom before taking a step inside. The décor was surprisingly simple. A bed that could fit two people at most. A desk, a chair, a large wardrobe—that last one was no surprise. But then little knickknacks were crammed everywhere, spilling over shelves and glinting in the light. Spiralling shells, pretty stones of various colours, crocheted toys, a brass cat arching its back. They all seemed worthless as far as real value went, but each no doubt contained a memory. She could even see the frankly ugly card little snot-nosed Danielle had given him, which he'd put on display as if it was a grand treasure. (Marinette still couldn't figure out whether Danielle had been trying to draw a picture of Chat Noir on the cover or a dinosaur with a rabbit head.)

It seemed that Chat Noir was the sentimental type. She had to admit that she liked his room, though. It was cosy.

Her gaze drifted to Chat Noir. He sat on the window seat, knees pulled to his chest. His curtains were open, but the view did not look out into stars and surrounding marshlands, as it should have. There was a greyish-blue sky—the kind that was sure to turn bruised and heavy. A climbing red rose framed a statue of a woman sitting on a bench. She was beautiful and completely unfamiliar to Marinette. Natural light seemed to glow from the image.

_Click-clack, click-clack._

A woman wearing glasses and a funny looking suit—tight like a second skin—came into view and blocked part of the statue. Marinette was so surprised that she almost dropped the plate of cookies. The woman lingered for a moment and then left the way she had come, her heels click-clacking against the stone path.

"What is this?" Marinette asked, her voice hushed. It felt like something would shatter if she spoke any louder. "Is this real?"

Chat Noir nodded.

She took a step closer. "But how? We're linked to the marshes right now."

The corner of his lips curved up. "So many questions."

But he didn't look at her, and she could tell his heart wasn't really in the smile. Something about this view, this statue, was important. Why else would he bother to enchant the window so he could always see it from his bedroom?

She placed the plate and mug on the seat and sat beside him. "Who is this woman? The statue, I mean."

"Didn't you come here to give me supper? I didn't realise this was an interrogation."

"If you didn't want to talk, you wouldn't have invited me in."

He rested his chin on his knees, meeting her gaze with that same little smile. "You love to call me out, don't you?"

"Maybe you should try to be more subtle then."

A laugh escaped his lips. "Ah, Marinette. Always so cruel."

She snorted. "Yes, so cruel I made you delicious cookies and hot chocolate." She pushed the mug towards him. "Which you should hurry up and drink, by the way. It's getting cold."

His fingers brushed hers as he accepted the mug. (And her stomach absolutely did not give a little flutter, thank you very much. That was just indigestion or—or typical old lady problems. No giddy, flutters going on here.)

He sipped his drink and bit into one of the chocolate chip cookies. "Delicious indeed."

"You doubted me?"

"Well, there was that time you wanted to make macarons and created some toxic—"

"Shut up." She tossed a crumb at his forehead. "That only happened because you kept distracting me."

"Mmhmm."

"It's true!"

"Right. It's totally normal to create poisonous—"

"Oh, eat your supper and be quiet." She folded her arms and looked the other way.

His gaze caught hers when she glanced back at him, and he smiled, his eyes twinkling. She bit the inside of her cheek so that she wouldn't return the smile. No need to give him that satisfaction. But she was glad to see him looking happier. He'd looked kind of sad when she'd first entered the room.

"So," she said, as he took another sip of his drink, "are you going to tell me what's so special about this statue lady?"

It was like a candle had been snuffed, snatching all trace of humour in his eyes. Or no, maybe that wasn't the right comparison. It wasn't so much that the light and warmth was gone from his expression—more that his focus had gone inward, shutting her out.

She regretted saying anything.

He placed his mug down and frowned at his lap. Silence settled, thick and choking like a too-tight collar on a dress.

Should she leave? Should she say something?

"My mother," he said softly.

Marinette straightened, perking up like a dog cocking its ear. "What?"

"That's what's so special. This is a statue of my mother."

Her jaw dropped.

Amusement tinged his voice. "What, you didn't think I had one?"

"N-no, of course I know you have a mother. I just—you've never talked about your family. You've never talked about where you're from or anything. It was a surprise, that's all."

"You don't talk about your family either."

Heat touched her cheeks. "My situation is different. I'm old and, uh, don't want to bore you with stories about all my grandnieces and nephews."

His lips twitched, as if he somehow knew that she was lying. But he didn't call her out. Instead, he hugged his knees again and stared at the statue.

More silence.

Maybe she should just leave. This was getting awkward. Marinette didn't know what to say. Well, no. She had plenty of questions that she wanted to ask, but she didn't know if they would be welcome. He wasn't offering up any information, so maybe he'd prefer not to talk about his mother or his past.

She glanced at her feet. Glanced back at him. Glanced at the cat ornament on the shelf with its stripey pattern and big green eyes. (Huh. One of its whiskers had broken off.)

And yep, this was awkward.

"Well." Marinette stood up, smoothing down her dress. "I guess I'll leave you to it. Enjoy the—"

"Wait." He caught her hand. "Stay."

Her heart gave a little thump-flutter. (Clearly the indigestion was back.)

She sat back down, swallowing and conscious of the fact that he was still holding her hand. Not that he meant anything by it. Why would he? She was an old woman to him. It was obvious he was just feeling sad and wanted some company.

"Thanks," he murmured, and gently squeezed her hand.

Her heart thumped faster. "All I'm doing is sitting here."

"I know."

One of the rose petals dropped and landed on the statue's shoulder.

His mother really was beautiful. Even shaped from stone, she looked like the kind of person who would earn a second glance. Lovely long hair, an elfin-like face. It was no wonder that Chat Noir was so attractive. (Not that Marinette would ever admit that aloud to him.) But then why was there even a statue of her? Was she someone important? And how did Chat Noir get this window to show the real place when the castle was currently walking through marshlands?

Chat Noir laughed and pressed his fingertip to the scrunched gathering of wrinkles on her brow. "I can hear your questions even when you're silent."

Heat dusted her cheeks.

"You're not going to stop thinking about this, are you?"

She shook her head.

He snorted and stood, pulling her up with him. "Come on, then. I suppose it can't hurt to show you. Bring the rest of the cookies. I'll get Nino."

oOo

A thick, cold mist beckoned like skeletal fingers from behind the door of the black dial. Marinette's heartbeat stuttered—just a small shiver of unease. She exchanged a glance with Nino, who shrugged. He had never seen what lay beyond either.

"In this place, you can call me Adrien," Chat Noir said.

"Adrien?" Marinette raised her eyebrow. "What, no wizard title? No theatrical alias?"

"Not here."

Nino frowned. "You've never used that name before."

Chat Noir ignored this comment and used magic to transform each of their clothes. His and Nino's became similar—dark suits that were rather plain, much like the one that woman with the glasses had been wearing. Certainly nothing that Chat Noir would have normally picked for himself. He tended to be more like a peacock strutting about with his flashy colours and fine outfits.

She scrunched her nose at her own outfit. Her green dress had changed into a skirt and blouse, complete with sheer stockings. It wasn't so bad, but putting her knobbly legs on display hadn't been part of her plan.

"Stay close to me," Chat Noir said. "Oh, and it's probably better if you avoid talking to anyone if you can."

"Why?" Marinette asked.

"Just do it, please."

It was the please that got her to stop asking questions.

They passed through the mist faster than expected. One moment it was there, cloying and blinding as if those skeletal fingers had covered her eyes like a blindfold, and then Marinette stood on the strangest street she had seen. All of the buildings were so much taller, reaching high into the sky like metal giants. Towers with coloured lights blinked at her. She didn't understand why they flashed or why the little man was stuck inside. Had someone put him in there? Was it a warning?

An odd humming could be heard in the background. It wasn't the clunking, rackety song of carts and horses, but gravellier and unfamiliar. A growl?

Something zipped behind her on the road—one of the growling beasts. Her eyes widened and she edged closer to Chat Noir. Nino did the same.

"Come," Chat Noir said, and led them to a large gate. A beautiful manor could be seen through the bars, elegant and imposing. Certainly nothing like her humble bakery home. He pressed some kind of button on the gate. There was a little contraption attached to the wall, which moved and watched them like a glassy eye.

"What is that?" Nino asked, daring to tap on the contraption. "Such strange magic…"

Chat Noir swatted his hand away, but his mouth twitched as if he was trying not to laugh. "Don't touch that."

Without even pushing on the bars, the gate swung open. Chat Noir ushered them towards the manor. They'd barely made it to the front door before the woman from the window image had come through it to greet them. She eyed Nino and Marinette with a frown, but her stern expression relaxed a tiny amount as her gaze fell on Chat Noir.

"Welcome back," she said.

"Nathalie," Chat Noir said with a smile. "I see you've been keeping the place in order."

"Of course."

Introductions were made for the others. Nathalie raised her eyebrows at Marinette but said nothing. That was just as well. Marinette was an old lady now. She wasn't afraid to put Stern Suit in her place.

They entered the manor and came face to face with a giant portrait of a man and a boy dressed in black. Both were blond, and the younger one looked a lot like Chat Noir, although he looked all sad and like someone had stolen all of the macarons. Marinette frowned and glanced between them, trying to figure out if the nose, chin, and eyes were the same or if she was just imagining it.

"Is that you and your dad?" Nino asked.

Huh. Or she could've just asked. Nino was a smart one.

Chat Noir glanced up at the portrait, and suddenly he looked like someone had stolen all of the macarons, too. "Yeah."

Marinette's brow furrowed. "Wait, is this your house?"

He laughed. "You only figured that out now?"

Her face grew hot. "You weren't exactly forthcoming, trying to be all Mr Mysterious back there."

"Well, now you know." He spread his arms out. "Welcome to the house where I grew up."

She peered around, taking in the foyer's massive size and its expensive but austere décor. Nothing cosy. Nothing to give any warmth. And it was so quiet. It felt like breathing would be illegal in this place.

Nathalie's eyebrow looked like it wanted to disappear into her hairline. Perhaps she found it odd that Marinette had not known this was Chat Noir's house. "Who are you again?" she asked Marinette.

"Oh, I'm his cleaning lady."

"Right …"

Chat Noir smiled. "Don't worry about them. They're harmless."

Nathalie's lips pursed as if she'd just bit into the sourest of lemons. "Perhaps I should be worrying."

He blinked.

"Adrien," Nathalie said bluntly, "while I try to respect that you are an adult now and can make your own decisions, you and I both know that your father would not approve of how you're behaving. You ignore the business, you disappear for months, you refuse modelling contracts, and now here you are bringing your cleaning lady and some strange boy for a visit."

Nino froze, his finger poised to touch a switch on the wall. "I didn't touch anything," he blurted, lowering his hand.

Nathalie was not impressed by this assurance.

Chat Noir rubbed the back of his neck. "I know this isn't what my father would have wanted for me, but—"

"But what?"

He bit his lip, saying nothing.

Nathalie shook her head. "Perhaps your father was right. We were all too lenient with you."

Hurt flickered in Chat Noir's expression, yet he still said nothing to defend himself. Marinette didn't understand. He never took anything sitting down, always ready with a retort. Why was he letting this woman say such things to him?

"I'm going to show them the garden," Chat Noir said, after an uncomfortable pause. "We'll be leaving after that."

Nathalie held his gaze for a long moment. "Very well."

They did not linger.

oOo

The garden was the same as the one Marinette had seen in Chat Noir's bedroom window. It was nothing large, not really, but now she could smell the roses—sweet and fragrant and all wrapped up with memories of rich perfumes and elegant ladies. Someone took good care of this garden. There were no weeds and the statue showed no signs of discolour.

Chat Noir brushed the rose petal off his mother's statue, his fingers lingering on her shoulder. "Hello, Mum," he said softly. "I'm sorry it's been so long."

Both Nino and Marinette stayed back respectfully as he crouched in front of the statue and murmured quiet things for his mother's ears only. Now it made sense why he kept the view in his room. This was probably the headstone for a grave, even though there was no epitaph or any words to indicate who she was or when she had passed.

Chat Noir conjured a gardenia and placed it on the statue's lap.

"Why a gardenia?" Marinette asked.

He stood up. "It was her favourite flower."

She admired the white petals, stark against the red roses that decorated the wall like silky webs of sunrise. "It is a nice flower."

He hummed in agreement. "I come here every time to give her one. She went missing when I was twelve. I used to think she'd come back once, but now …"

Nino moved closer and touched Chat Noir's arm in a silent show of support. Marinette mirrored him but held Chat Noir's hand instead, giving it a small squeeze. They stood there like that together, none of them making any move to put distance between them.

"What was her name?" Marinette asked.

"Emilie."

"Pretty."

Another hum of agreement.

"And your father?" she asked, if a bit tentatively.

Chat Noir stiffened. "His name was Gabriel."

Was. Had both of his parents passed away then? Odd that there was no statue for his father, though it sounded like Chat Noir had not had the best of relationships with him.

"He went missing, too," Chat Noir said in a quiet voice. "Couldn't accept that Mum was gone. He went searching for her and never came back."

Nino stepped away so he could face Chat Noir. "And you went searching for them."

Chat Noir's eyes widened. "I …"

"This is a different world, isn't it?" Nino observed. "You somehow came into our world, hoping you'd find your parents, except you never did."

Chat Noir shook his head, his shoulders slumping.

Marinette gave his hand another squeeze. "I'm sorry."

He leaned into her touch like a kitten starving for affection. She didn't hesitate to welcome him closer. Even Nino moved in to complete the circle, offering the warmth and human connection that Chat Noir clearly needed—that perhaps they all needed.

As they headed back to the portal later, she found herself often glancing at Chat Noir. He would no doubt annoy her again with his dramatics soon enough, but today she had seen a different side of him. It was something she would never forget.


	3. In which the castle has a visitor

Marinette sipped tea at the kitchen table and flicked through the pages of the new catalogue for Kingsbury's latest fashion for ladies. A smile curved her lips as she paused on an elaborate creation of lace and silk that looked like a dandelion seed turned upside down. Very pretty, but not exactly the kind of dress she would wear.

"C'mon, Plagg," Nino said, holding a frying pan towards the stove. "It's just two eggs."

Plagg yawned and stretched out more on his logs. "And that's two more eggs of effort."

"You let Marinette make her tea!"

Plagg grinned, showing his fiery teeth. "I guess I was feeling generous then."

"Can't you feel generous now?"

Plagg made a show of rubbing his chin with his itty-bitty flame hand. "Nope."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to."

Nino pursed his lips, looking very much as if he'd like to dump his pan of eggs on Plagg's head. A snort escaped Marinette. It was hard not to be amused when Nino was normally so mild-tempered.

"What are you laughing at?" Nino demanded.

"Sorry," she said, though her lips quivered with a smile. "Here, let me help."

She moved to take the frying pan from him. "Come on, Plagg, you can—"

_Knock, knock!_

Marinette glanced at the door. Who could be here at this hour in the morning? Even she wouldn't be awake had Chat Noir not clattered his way through the kitchen while making his own breakfast like the clattery clatterer he was.

Another knock.

"Hello?" a familiar voice called. "Is anyone home?"

The frying pan and its contents went flying from her hand. A piece of uncooked egg landed on Nino's head, slip and sliding down his face, and the other one went splat on her shoe. The frying pan itself did an impressive somersault before it landed on the stovetop, right on Plagg's face. Not that Marinette noticed. Her eyes had bulged in panic and she paced in circles like a frantic chicken, hands slapped to her cheeks.

Oh no! Oh no! That was Alya's voice. That meant Alya was _here_!

_Knock, knock!_

"Gross," Nino complained, grabbing a cloth to wipe the eggy muck off his face. "Marinette—"

"A frying pan to the face! Is this all the respect I, a powerful fire demon, get in this—"

_KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!_

All three of them froze.

"I know you're in there," Alya said, sounding irritated now. "I can hear you."

Marinette seized Nino's arm. "You can't tell her I'm here!" she hissed.

He blinked.

"In fact, don't tell her anything about me at all. Not a thing!"

She didn't wait for him to agree and ducked into the cupboard on the right—the same that Chat Noir had once hidden inside. Shelves pressed against her back. The smell of herbs and mustiness clung to the air, tickling her nose. But there was a little crack in front of her where the doors didn't quite connect, which made a perfect peeping view. This allowed her to see Nino frown at the cupboard before he sighed and headed for the front door.

Phew.

_KNOCK, KNOCK—_

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you," Nino grumbled, opening the door. He paused and straightened his back to stand taller. "Wow."

Alya quickly lowered her hand, which had still been raised to knock. "Wow?"

"I mean, uh, come inside."

Marinette bit the inside of her cheek. On the one hand, she was amused that Nino had clearly been smitten by her friend, who was looking particularly pretty today in a russet-coloured dress and matching hat. On the other, why the heck was he inviting her inside? Danger zone, Nino! Danger!

Alya removed her hat and peered around the kitchen and adjoining living area. "Is Chat Noir in? I was hoping to ask him some questions."

"Not at the moment, but maybe I can help you."

"You?" Alya looked him up and down. "And who are you?"

He held out his hand to her. "I'm Nino, his assistant."

She shook his hand. "Alya Césaire, reporter for the _Kingsbury Star_."

"I know."

Her eyebrow arched upwards.

A dusting of colour darkened his cheeks. "Your reputation precedes you. I mean, I didn't realise you'd be this pretty, but—"

"Excuse me?"

"Witty! I didn't realise you'd be this witty!" He gestured at a chair. "Would you like to sit?"

Marinette covered her mouth so she wouldn't laugh. Poor Nino. No one was going to be fooled by that save.

Alya sat down and placed her hat on the table. Her face was out of view now, but that was okay. So long as Marinette stayed on this side of the cupboard and Nino kept his word not to say anything, there would be no problems.

"Would you like some tea?" Nino asked. "The kettle's already boiled."

"Yes, thank you."

Nino bustled to do that, pouring two cups for both of them. Marinette could see Plagg also watching from the fireplace, his green eyes peeping out from under the frying pan.

"That's an odd fire you have," Alya remarked.

"Is it?" Nino laughed, rubbing the base of his neck. "Well, wizard's house, you know."

"Right …"

Plagg hid more under the frying pan.

Nino handed her one of the cups and then sat with her at the table.

"Is someone else joining us?" Alya asked.

"Huh?"

"There's a third cup here."

Dang it! Trust Alya to notice that. She had always been too observant for her own good.

"Oh, that's mine," Nino said. "I really love my tea. Great stuff. Drink it all day, and in multiple cups. Makes it taste better."

Alya's voice took on an amused tone. "And the ladies' fashion magazine?"

"That's mine too."

"Really?" Alya crossed her legs, leaning towards him. "And which dress is your favourite from the catalogue?"

"Uh …" Nino tugged at his collar. "The blue … lace one?"

Bless Nino's heart. His delivery wasn't perfect—the poor guy couldn't help but scream suspicious when he lied—but he was trying and that was all Marinette could ask for. She'd have to make him a whole batch of macarons for this.

Alya relaxed in her chair, once more putting her face out of view. "Interesting."

Nino smiled.

It was at this unfortunate moment that the tickly sensation that had been bothering Marinette's nose got to be too much. She pinched the end of her nose and held her breath, cheeks puffing out like a pufferfish, but it was to no avail. A sneeze was let loose.

Nino and Alya both froze.

"Is someone else here?" Alya asked, glancing around.

"Nope," he said. "It is most definitely just us."

Alya's tone was the flattest of flats. "Sounded like someone sneezed."

"D-did it? Maybe it was just the wind."

"The wind?"

"Yes?"

Marinette sneezed again.

Alya stood up. "I knew it! Someone is here!"

"Wait," Nino said, hurrying after her as she marched towards the cupboard.

Oh no. To think that Marinette's own nose could betray her so deeply. Now everything was ruined! Or no. Maybe there was something on one of these shelves that would let her shrink, shrink, shrink until she was a teeny-weeny mouse. (Or a hamster. Hamsters were more fun.)

Wait, but there wasn't enough room for her to turn around and check the shelves.

Then maybe the creepy turnip-head scarecrow would come knocking on the castle door and distract Alya. And then Marinette would be able to escape from the cupboard and dash up the stairs before anyone could see her, thus avoiding the terrible future where Alya snoops her last snoop and the Wizard of the Waste curses her into a—

The cupboard was opened.

Alya blinked. Marinette also blinked, hunched against the shelves with her hands tucked near her chin like a praying mantis. (And Nino slapped his palm to his forehead.)

"Okay, what the heck is going on?" Alya demanded.

It only took two seconds for Marinette to make her decision. She plastered on a smile and stepped out of the cupboard. "Hello. I see you've met my grandson."

"Grandson?" Nino repeated, staring at her as if she'd just sprouted a second head.

Marinette laughed and patted his arm. "Oh, what a naughty boy you are pretending we aren't family. As if I didn't change your diapers or look after you when you were just a wee rascal."

His nose scrunched even more. "What?"

She pinched his arm. " _Remember_?"

His eyes widened in understanding and then he wrapped his arm around her, laughing awkwardly. "Guess you got me, Gran. How could I forget you?"

They both grinned at Alya.

"He's always pulling silly jokes like this," Marinette confided, giving Nino another fond pat.

Alya just stared. "Why were you in the cupboard?"

"It's my favourite place," Marinette said.

"She got lost," Nino said at the same time.

They glanced at each other.

"It's my favourite place to go when I get lost," Marinette said, smiling widely and hoping her twitching eye wasn't too obvious. "This castle is so big. A poor old lady like me can't always remember where to go."

Creases formed on Alya's brow. "Hold on, but he said just before that we were the only ones here, so if you were in the cupboard—"

"He didn't know I was in there," Marinette said hastily.

Alya's frown deepened.

"Anyway," Marinette said, grabbing Alya's arm and steering her back to her seat, "you had best drink your tea, dear. It's going to get cold." She placed the cup in Alya's hands, then took her own seat at the table.

The frown lingered on Alya's face. "Have we met before?"

Marinette went rigid. "N-not that I know of."

"Really? You just seem so familiar …"

Marinette waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "Oh, I'm sure that's just an old lady thing. We probably all look the same to you. Grey hair. Wrinkles. You know." She laughed and then turned away, struggling not to hyperventilate. This was going terribly wrong.

Alya tilted her head, still looking at Marinette far too closely for her comfort. "No, I don't think that's it. What's your name?"

"Granny."

A light laugh. "No, _your_ name."

Marinette's left eye twitched faster. "Édith."

" _Édith_?" Nino mouthed at her, raising his eyebrow.

Marinette ignored him. She would have happily ignored everyone if it meant she could catastrophise in comfort. Right now, there was a whole series of events playing in her head, most of which involved Alya getting cursed in some way, including into a pigeon trapped in space. (Because no one could hear you coo in space.)

Logic told her that the Wizard of the Waste probably wouldn't turn Alya into a pigeon, let alone send her to space, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that Marinette knew Alya, and Alya would never let it go should she guess that the old lady before her was her best friend. She would snoop and snoop until she uncovered the truth. And then Alya's fate would be sealed. After all, the Wizard of the Waste hadn't even liked a small designer making clothes in Market Chipping. He'd called Marinette competition—never mind that Marinette didn't own a shop to sell her wares to customers. (Her parents were bakers, so everything was done through friends and word of mouth.)

No, there was no way that the Wizard of the Waste would tolerate a reporter snooping around his business.

"Édith?" Alya said.

Marinette blinked. "What?"

"I asked if you've ever lived in Market Chipping. It's my hometown, you see."

"Afraid not," Marinette lied, because all she seemed to do these days was lie. Maybe she should just call herself Old Wrinkles the Liar. Get it on a nametag and pin it to her dress. Save everyone the trouble of asking her anything.

Nino shifted a step so that he was slightly blocking Marinette from Alya's view. "I was born in Porthaven. Just in case you wanted to know."

Alya spared him a brief glance. "That's nice."

Poor Nino. It was obvious that he was still smitten, but Alya had come here for Chat Noir.

Icy snakes slithered their way into Marinette's stomach, settling in a cold, unpleasant lump. Right, Alya had come here for Chat Noir. Did that mean Alya was smitten with him? Did Chat Noir like her back? He had agreed that he found Alya beautiful …

Marinette stood up abruptly. "Oh, look, you've finished your tea. I guess it's time to go then."

Alya blinked as the cup was snatched from her. "But—"

"No, no," Marinette said, bustling her towards the door. "You came here to talk to Chat Noir, didn't you? Well, he's not here right now, so there's no point talking to us."

"But I—"

"Goodbye!"

"Come again," Nino called over her shoulder.

The door was slammed shut.

"Phew," Marinette said.

"That was pretty rude of you," Nino said, folding his arms.

Marinette huffed. "Well, someone had to get rid of her."

It was for her own good that Marinette had pushed her out. This was all in the name of protecting her from pigeon curses. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Alya and Chat Noir had met previously and now here Alya was turning up at his home, looking very pretty and wanting to ask him questions. Nothing at all.

Marinette huffed again, then noticed Nino was still frowning at her. She huffed a third time. "You have egg in your hair."

"What?" Nino yelped, clutching at his hair. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He ran to examine his hair on the back of a spoon and then groaned. "Do you think Alya noticed? No wait, of course she noticed. How can you not notice this goopy mess? This is terrible …"

"Never mind that," Plagg said, cutting through Nino's wails. "Get this stupid pan off me!"

And just like that things were back to normal. Well, as normal as a cursed woman, a wizard apprentice, and a fire demon could be.

Nino sat down opposite Marinette at the table later, now clean and holding a slice of bread. (He seemed to have given up on having fried eggs on toast for breakfast.) "By the way," he said, "don't think you've got out of explaining all that grandson and hiding in the cupboard nonsense. You owe me some answers, _Édith_."

She winced. Dang it.


End file.
